Newspaper Page Text
F. R i* ILDES, Editor,
VOL. VIII.
PROFESSIONAL.
DR. E. A.JELKS,
Practicing P ii ys i c iax,
QUITMAN QA.
Opfick : Brick building adjoining store of
Me**rs. Briggs. Ji*lks Cos., Screven street.
January 31. 1873. 5-tt
JAMES iTTHUNTER7
Jtfornni anb (STouusrllor at fata,
QUITMAN. CA.
p&- Omen, ix tub Cocrt llot'SK.'®^
March 17, 1871
W. B. Bkxxkt S. T. Kixosbkkry
RENNET & KINGSBURY.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
Quitman. Brooks Coi nty, Georgia.
February 7, 1873 f>
#. €. OAIiLAHEIt,
ATTORNEY AT LAV,
QUITMAN , OA.
WILL practice in the Superior Courts iu all
the Counties of the Southern Circuit; in
the Supreme Court of Georgia, and in the Pis
trict Court of the United States, ai Savannah
And in special cases, in the Counties of Madison
and Jefferson, Florida.
,JHlf* Office : Mclntosh House. 37-3ui
EDWARD It HARDEN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,!
QUITMAN, GEORGIA,
tea. Office, in the Court House, second floor j
Mar 26, 1872. It
DR. J. S. SNOW,
DENTIST,
WILL be in QUITMAN about the 12th inst..
for the purpose of locating pernninently
in the place.
He respectfully solicits the patronage of the
citizens of Brooks County and the public gener
ally, and will endeavor, by faithfully executing
all work entrusted to him, to merit their confi
dence.
up stairs, overJ. Tillman-s stoic.
Nov. 8, 1872. 4:> if
Miscellaneous.
Silver-Ware and Jewelry,
WATCIIES, &<>.
V. li. BARNES A 10..
Have just re
ceived u New >'
and Elegant auppl> -0'»
Silver Ware -
Watches *
clocks,
Watch Chain*. Jncelry , Pvcket Cutlery. Table !
Cutlery. Siher Forks, Sjmns. Pistols,
Metalic Cartridges of all sizes ,
Game Hays. Fhot P< meins,
Fine Kentucky Rifle
Powder , Gun Caps,
A neat assortment of WALKING CANES, and
au immense stock of the Celebrated
Diamond Spectacles, j
Also, a very complete assortment of
xot xoixns,
Such as Brushes, Combs, PortemonnaicH, Thitn- j
Idea, Needles, Pins, Buttons, Ac.
pSPVf* will sell these goods on as reasonable
rterms as possible, and ask an inspection of the
jame by the public
We are likewise prepared to REPAIR Watches,
Jewelry. Pistols and Guns with neatness and
dispatch. W. E. BARNES & CO.
Quitman. December 20. 1872. 51-3 m
QUITMAN DRUG STORE.
McCALI, & GROOVER,
| Dealers in
Drugs, Mcdicines.«teaste>
Paint*, Oils,
VARSJSIfES. l>ye Stuff*,
BRUSHES Perfume
ry, loiiet Articles, etc.
Notify the public that they will keep on hand
ccmplete and fresh stocks, and sell the same at a
reasonable profit.
This is Exclusively a Drug Store, and the en
tire attention of the junior member of the firm
will be given to the business.
We respectfully solicit the patronage of the
public.
Quitman, Feb. 2, 1873. ly
DR. M. r. WTLKINSOX. I)K. A. D. SMITH.
URGE DRUG SIGN.
WILKINSON! SMITH,
KEEP on hand a
Complete Stock
of Fresh and Pure
drugs
KIOUQINES
And many of the best
i«,JL
Also, White Lead. Varnishes. Paints and Oils,
Soaps, Tobacco, Sugars, Toilet Articles, Ac.
All of which will be sold on reasonable terms.
Prescriptions carefully compounded.
Quitman, Ga., Jan. 31, 1873. 5 ly
ALL kinds of Toilet Soap and Penumerv at
PAINE A HALL’S
poetical.
Tli«* Land of Long Ago*
Mu've trodden rugged ways, old friend,
Since childhood’s bouyant years.
Our paths now brightly arched with hope,
Now dark with clouds and tears;
But looking back o’er time and change,
The fairest land we know
Lies bathed in morning’s rosy light—
The Land of Long Ago.
W hen there how distant far appeared
To us the glow of noon;
What eager, earnest glances turned
To days that came too soon—
Aye. came too soon, with earnestness,
W ii Ii grave, calm looks and thoughtful word.
The ghosts of Long ago.
hiit dreams we dreamed in olden times,
W hat castles proud Mid fair,
Arose to bless our hopeful sight
They arose too high in air.
Their great hails rang with merry throngs
That n >w lie still and low;
They dropped aud faded since we left
The land of Long Ago
Our friends, dear friends of vanished years !
Their menvry haunts us yet,
Like fragments of some sweet old song
The heart can ne’er forget.
Their kindly words were music’s tones,
Their eyes had friendship's gkw;
But. ah ! their smiles beam faintly uow
From far off Long Ago.
<*’reclimb’d life’s hard, rough hill, old friend
e re passing down its slope;
Behind us lays a weary road,
Before the land of Hope
That weary road is lined with graves,
The vale is glad below.
Their children play as once wo played
In happy Long Ago.
For aye may childhood’s sunny sky
Be free from gloom and tears.
That stores of joy may treasured be
For dieury after years;
For. viewing now the day of life
Through night’s descending snow.
The fairest, dearest pictures gleam
From bright old Long Ago.
SWIFT JUSTICE.
A merchant left St. Petersburg to
| travel across Europe. In the course ol
j liisj urney he arrived at Warsaw. Bo-
I ing furnished with a letter of introdue
| lion, he repaired to the house of one of
I tile ct i< f citizens there, and was most
| courteously iiceived. lie staid at War
saw for a week, and his host spairt and no
pains to make the visit agreeable, and
! showed him everything worth seeing- in
the town. Indeed, tin* visitor wag quite
overwhelmed by an amount of kindness
| rarely shown to any one hut a friend ol
| long standing.
At length Itlie pleasant visit drew to
i its clo-e, and after breakfast the guest
j expressed his wish to see some poor
i parts of (lie town, of which he had heard.
! 'Hut,’ said he, T have with me a small
i box of great value that I do not like to
i *sk ms ch places II it wi re my own
I sl-ouhl ii.t he so particular; but it was
'-trusted to me by a friend, who request
and me to deliver it to a person in anoth
er town. It cintains diamonds and
other valuables Wou and you do me the
great lav r of taking charge of it for ti e
day?" Tlie host, with his usua l in bald
ly, willingly agreed to lids prop sal,
and the in- reliant started out witli a
I gat heart on his tom* of inspection, I
forgot the name, but let us say in the
‘S ve D ais,’or‘Five Points,’of War
saw.
Next rm ruing alter breakfast he cor
diaPy thanked hire entertainers f r their
z- a unis In sp.tdlity, and added that as lie
was about to depart, tie would now re
-lime his chaige of the box, which bad
never before quitted his person since he
iliad received it from its owner. The
host and hostess started at him in well
• acted amazement. 'What box?’ asked
| the Is at. ‘I remember no box, do you,
;my dear?’ turning to his wife. ‘No,’
she said, ‘I have no recollection of any
' b xw h lever' What was it iike?’ ask
!<d the host; perhaps yon Irft it in your
j room.’ Hut oil the merchant insisting
j toat it was with the host himself lie had
i left it, mi his turning to his hostess and
| living to make her recollect the circurn
i stance, both fafter appealing to each
, other several limes, and fortifying each
other in their denial) became c rid and
distant, and began hinting that sorne
tiiing must have happened to t"C iner
chant, to induce him to persist in so
i strange a delusion. As the host touch
ed his forehead with a significant glance,
j the poor man renumbered he was in a
strange city; the ground seemed to be
| slipping from under his feet; danger to
himself loomed in ttie distance, arid he
; hastened from the house in alarm.
| Straight to the police he went and stated
hia case. The official listened impertur
j bably to the whole story, and then asK
ed, ‘You give op this valuable box to
au acquaintance of a week's standing
i without any witness or written acknowl
edgment?’
‘He had been so very kind, a man in
j his position— ’
I ‘Balt! you a man of business! But
! have you no proof that the box belongs
to you?’
'None whatever, except the key. It
is locked, and I have the key; here it
is,’and he produced a small key from an
inner pocket.
The official remained lost in thought
for some time, and then said, ‘Well, I
wil! do the only 'thing I can for you.
The Archduke Gonstantaine (the Gov
;ernor of I’olaud) is a nleru, harsh man,
but be is known for bis rigorous justice,
and if be believes yom story be wilt do
bis best for you. I will take you to
him at once.’
HERE SHALL THE PRESS THE PEOPLE’S RIGHTS MAINTAIN, UN AWED BY PEAR AND UNBRIBED BY GAIN
QUITMAN, GEO., FEBRUARY 28. 1873.
No time was lost, and the merchant
soon found himself in the Aichdukc’s
presence, and was permitted to relate
his story. When it was concluded, tlie
archduke, alter a few moments’ reflec
tion, rang a bell. An official appeared,
‘Send for M—,’ naming the treacherous
tost It was quickly done, and the
Arct duke, without preamble or question, j
said to the guiliy man,‘Sit down at
t‘ at writing table and write ns I shall j
dictate to yon.’ The man took his seat j
and took up the pen; the Archduke he- |
gall dictating :
'My dear wife: AM is found out—’
No,’said the man, springing from
his seal; ‘I won't write that.'
‘Then you are guilty,’ was the prompt j
answer.
Puzzled and foiled, he resumed his j
sea: a'd wrote as lie was desired:
'.My dear wife : All is found out. |
Send the box by the bearer.’
Then he signed it with hia w.i name, j
by the Archduke's ordei, and a rnesson j
ger wa- dispatched with it. The mes- I
songer found tne lady at her loiiet; when
she read the missive she turned ashy I
pale. In mhling violenPy. Then leaning
forward, she drew the box from tin re- j
cess in her toilet-table, and handed it to j
the bearer, who, swiftly returning, placed '
It in the hands of tho Archduke. He
immediately handed it to the merchant,
desiring him to unlock it; that being
done, Ini asked whether the diamonds
were all there. YM s, the box had not
been opened; they wre exactly as the
merchant had left them.
Again the Archduke rang the bell, and
to the attendant who entered, he ,
said, designating the guilty man, ‘Take
him to Siberia; he is not to go to his i
own house again.’ ,
“Eating Crow.”
Near the camp of tho old Pennsylva
n a Bncktail Regiment in Virginia, early
in the war, lived an old,-aristocratic, ex
clusive and pompons Virginian, in true
baronial style. His mansion, of very
old age, was made ol imported brick, his
cbimnien were tall and massive, and the
rooms were large and pleasant. The
chief attraction of the old place, howev
er, were the grounds that surrounded the
mansion. They were very extensive
and inviting. Large trees gave luxuri
ant shade and the underbrush in po
tions of the grounds afforded shelter for
rabbits and other small game. There
were walks, and orchards, ael arbors,
and the whole bore such a scene of gen
eral peacefulness and repose that it was
no wonder that the wild Biicktails were
charmed with the prospect and anxious
to penetrate into a spot which gave such
promise of enjoyment.
The Biicktails were not the most true
table soldiers. They came from the
stepping-off place—the wildorrnss of
Pennsylvania—McKean, Potter, Purest
and Tioga counties —they obtained their
name, whichdung to them during the
entire war, through a fancy of Col. Kane,
brother ol the Arctic explorer, who be
came their commander. lie recruits the
regiment in the early days of 1851 (be
ginning on ttie day of the arrival of the
news of the fall of Foit Sumpter) from
the backwoodsmen, who were famous
marksm n. They were, ollNti ri hunters,
and as a designal'onTciich man was fur
nished wita a tail of a buck by Col.
Kane and when they marched from
camp Curtail with the biicktails in their
hats, it was a m-vel sight. Col. Cbailes
J. Biddle, of Philadelphia, was made tho
Colonel, and Col. Kane, the Lieutei ant
Colonel of the regiment—both men noted
tor their short attenuated forms. Neith
er was scarcely more tlisn five font high,
and ibeir combined weights was that ol
220 pounds.
It may readily be guess' and that these
soldiers had liitle respect for Virginia
aristocracy, and the tent poles had hard
ly got settled in the ground before a
noted raider nam'd well Smith—
shouldered ids doer kil'er and started on
a little expedition. He was a Sergeant
ami of immense size, aid went by the
name of Big Sergeant. He made a
straight march for the old Virginian’s
manor. Now, ttie old man had many
pets about his grounds, and among them
was a tame crow which tie valued very
highly He also had lame rabbits,
doves, See. Ttie sergeant climbed the
wall and cropped himself and his
gnn on the inside of the grounds.
The first thing his eye caught was the
tame crow, which unconcernedly flew
near him, aud lighted on a limb and be
gan to caw at him. The Sergeant put
his rifle to his shoulder and I anged
away, and Mr. Crow came fluttering to
the ground. The soldier reloaded his
gun, and leaned it against the wall, aud
went to get his crow.
Instantly there came running from the
house, in a high state of excitement, the
old Virginian, and when he saw his pet
crow was killed his rage had no bounds.
He rushed for the Sergeaut’s gun, and
swearing that he wouldn’t have giveu
the crow for the whole Yankee army,
vowed that he would blow the soldier’s
brains out. With this lie brought the
piece to a cock aud glanced along the
barrel. The Sergeant begged for his
life, and the Virginian swore he would
take it.
The Virginian Jfiualiy thought of a
compromise, witti a look half between
amazement and rage, told the Sergeant
that ne must eat tbat crow raw In ram
the other protested, the Virginian in
sisted on the price of his adversary’s
iife. So the Sergeant pulled off some
feathers and began to gag and eat.
“How do yon like crow?’’ hissed the
Virginian through his teeth.
The only answer tho other gave was a
request to bo let off Ho was sorry lie
had shot the crow; didn’t know that it
was tame and ho wouldn’t do such a
j thing again Finally the old man took
j the gun from its aim and told, him ho
needn’t oat any more His heart full of
joy the Sergeant droped tho bird upon
: the glolled and Bald:
‘Well, 1 kin eat crow, but I dou’t like
it.’
! The story might stop Imre if it was
: only to show tho origin of the phrase hut
! the re«t of it is the best
The old Virginian after surveying Ids
dead pet for an instant in a sorrowful
manner, returned the gun and started
tor his mansion. The other quickly
brought his piece to Ids shoulder, and
Called out:
‘lf "Id on, tlmre, mister.’
‘What do you want?’ asked the other,
as ho turned and beheld a ‘head’ drawn
on him.
’l’d like to have you cat the rest ol
tl is crow.’
j Then tho old man stormed and swore,
j and tore about in a frantic manner, say
! ing he’d he and and if ho would, and lie
didn't want any of the young mail’s
jokes. Tne cocking of the gun, and as
surance on the part of the soldier that
tie would certainly put a ball through
the old man’s shoulder unless he com
plied with the demand, induced tho Vir
ginian to retrace his steps. ‘Now,’said
the Sergeant, ‘I want you to eat the rest
of that, crow and no nonsense.’
A punch ol ttie rifle on tho shoulder of
the old man roused him to a quick sense
of his position, and picking up the crow,
lie endeavored to bite it, II ■ grow pale,
the perspiration stood on hia face, lie
trembled like a terrier, his month water
ed, his eyes filled, he gagged, and it
seemed a physical impossibility for hint
to touch the crow The Sergeant, how
ever, compelled him to take a bite, and
it was the only one he did take, for his
breakfast came tip so rapidly to protest
against crow that the soldier relented,
and told him to ‘git,’ and never trouble
a Bncktail again.
Here would suein another proper place
to end the story, but there is another
paragraph.
| Ttie next day, thn old Virginian, smart
ing under tho indignities he had suffered,
in not only having his pet crow killed,
but being compelled to cat a portion of
it, went to the headquarters of the Buck
tails and made complaint to the Colonel
against l e Big Sergeant. Ttie Colonel
at once sent an orderly ter Sergeant
jS-nrtli, rightly supposing he must be the
I person referred to He obeyed the sum
| mens at once. He pushed the door of
j the tent, aside, and entered the presence
•Snapping his heels together and stand-
I ing erect in tbc position of ‘attention,’ he
! brought the right band quickly to the
visor of his military cap, and gave the
customary salute to his Oo'otiel.
‘Sergeant, ’ said Ii is commander, very
gravely, ‘do you knojv that gentleman?’
pointing to the old Virginian.
‘Yes, sir,’ promptly answered the oth
er.
‘How did you become acquainted with
him. Sergeant?’
‘We dined together yesterday, sir,’
promptly answered the culprit.
The roar of laughter w hich followed
this reply need not be described, nor the
manner in which the o'd Virginian join
ed. The Sergeant was sent back to his
quarters, and the interview between the
old aristocrat and the Colonel was ended
liy an invitation to tho latter to dine tho
next day at the old mansion.
How Ben Butler Earned a Fee.
Ben. Butler was a Down-East lawyer
before he got to be a Major-General and
Representative of his District in Con
gress. Like all lawyers, Ben. had a
hard pull of it at the start, and perhaps
tlia sharpness and acumen for which he
is so universally celebrated were ac
quired at this early period of Ids life,
when he was striving for a practice, and
| the odds were biains or starvation.
| One day, while sitting in tns office,
| there entered a long-legged, gaunt,
j hatchet-faced specimen of the genus yan
kee, who looked sharp enough to make
| his meals off pins and needles, and who
' thus accosted the future C 'egressman:
j ‘Mr. Lawyer, lam going into a little
| hit of law business, and as you seem like
| a right smart, plucky sort of a chap, I
j thought I might as well give tho job to
you.’
‘All right,' says the lawyer, ‘you can’t
trust your case in better hands.'
‘Well, then, I had a ham hanging in
an out shed, and a neighbor’s dog came
along and ate it. VVliat would you do?’
‘Why prosecute the owner of the dog,
of course. Make the fellow pay dam
ages.’
‘That’s tho talk, Mr. Lawyer,’ said the
yaukee, with a sly smile''beginning to
j work aronnd the corners of his eyes and
mouth. ‘But you see—l don’t know as
it makes any difference—the dog was
yourn.
Butler opened In's eyes a little at this
i onslaught, but lie wasn’t going to be
taken aback io this matter, even iu a
i brother yankee.
! ‘What do you value your ham at?’
asked Butler, drawing out his wallet.
‘Well, I guess five dollars would he
' letting you off cheap,’ said the yaukee;
‘for it was au all-fired good hum.’
' Without entering a word of protest
Butler paid the money and said:
‘There is the damage for your ham.
Now fork over ten dollars.’
'What for?’ inquired the yankee, in his
turn astonished.
’For my legal advice!’ said Butler.
You don’t suppose 1 can work without
a fee, do yon?’
Mr. Yankee was hit; so drawing his
face as long as his legs, ho slowly count
ed out his money, and inwardly vowed j
he would bring no more law business
before tho youthful but razor-!ike dis
penser of Goke and Bluckstone.
Why Aunt Sully Never .Married.
‘Now, Aunt Sallie, do please tell us
why you never got married. You re- |
mem her you said once that when you j
were a girl you were engaged to a min- !
ister, and promised you won Id tell us
about it sometime. Now, Aunt, please
tell us.’
‘Well, you see, when I was about
seventeen years old I was living in Uti
ca, in the State of New York, though I
say it myself, I was quite a good-look
ing girl then, and had several beaux.
1 lie on« that took my fancy was a young
minister, a very promising young man,
and remarkably pious and steady Tie
thought a good deal of me, and I kind ol
took a fancy to him, and tilings went on
until we were engaged. One evening
hejeamo to me and put his arms around
me, and kind of hugged mo, when I got
excited and some (lustrated. It was a
longtime ago, and I don’t know but
what I might have hugged back a little.
I was like any oilier girl, and pretty
soon I pretended to bo mad about it, and
pushed him away, though I wasn’t mad
a bit. You must know that the house
where 1 lived was on one of tho hack
streets of the town. There were glass
doors in the parlor, wb’ch opened over
the street. Those doors were drawn to.
I stepped back a little from him, and
when he came up close I pushed him
tiaek again. I pushed him harder than
I intended to; and don't you think,girls,
the poor fellow lost his balance’ and fell
Enough one of the doors into the street.’
‘Oh, Aunty 1 Was he killed?’
‘No. Ho fell head first, and as ho
was going I caught him tiy iho logs of
his itronsers. I held on fur a minute
and tried to pull him buck; but his sus
penders gave way, and the poor young
man fell clear out of his pantaloons into
a parcel of ladies and gentlemen along
the street.’
‘On! Aun ly I Aui.fy I Lordyl’
‘There, that’s right, squall and giggle
as much as you want to. Girls that
can't hear a little tiling like that without
tearing around the room and lie -lie-ing
in such a way, don’t know enough to
come in wlifii it rains. A nice time the
man will have who marries one of you,
won’t lie. Catch me telling you any
thing again.’
‘But, Aunt S illy what became of him?
Did you ever see him again?’
'No; the moment he touched the ground
lie got up and left that (dace in a hurry.
I tell yon it was a sight to bo remem
bered How that man did run! Ho
went out West, and I believe ho is
preaching nut in Illinois. But he never j
married. lie was very modest, and I j
suppose lie was so badly frightened that |
time, that he never dared trust himself
near a woman again. That, girls, is
the reason why 1 never married. I felt
very had about it fi r a long time—for
ho was a real good man, and 1 have of
ten thought to nivsetf that we would
have been very happy if his suspenders
hadn’t-given away.’
THE BAR-ROOM.
Young- man! have not your eyes been
frequently attracted to a sign having
tlio following ominous word on it :
••B A R 7”
Avoid the place; it is no misnomer.
The experience of thousands has proved
it to be
A bar to respectability,
A bar to honor,
A bar to happiness,
A bar to heaven,
Every day proves it to bo
The road to degradation,
The road to vice.
The road to the gambler’s hell,
The load to the brutal,
The road to poverty,
The road to wretchedness,
The road to robbery,
The road to murder,
The road to poison,
The road to the drunkard's grave,
The road to hell.
Some, it is true, do not pass t! rough
all the stages; but intemperance persist
ed in always ends in the drunkard's
grave, and we have too much reason to
fear hell. The bar room is truly
The curse ot the drunkard’s wife,
The curse of the drunkard’s child,
The curse of the drunkard’s home.
Those only who have known the bit
terness of a drunkard’s wife or child,
can know the misery and horror of a
drunkard’s homo.
Yeung man! before you enter the bar
room, stop! Ponder the paths of your
feet ere it be forever 100 late !
Man of family! flee from the bar-roi m
aR you would iu honor fulfill the pledge
of love made to her who is the compan
ion ot your joys and success.
‘Put, you are wearing your stockings
wrong hilfo uulMrualn, 1
‘Och, and don’t I know it, to be sure!
There’s a hole ou the otUerside, there is.’
($2.00 ncr Annum
A STIFF UPPER LIP.
The world courts a man for his money;
fawns upon him if there is power in his
hand to turn the scales wheu the fates
are iu the balances; defers to him if he
has great meutal gifts; admires him
for personal beauty and grace; hives
him for large heartedness; but it never
thoroughly respects him, unless he
knows how aud wheu to keep a atifl up
per lip.
"Keep a stiff upper lip, old fallow)” la
the parting counael of the friend te an
other, who is standing in the shadow of
some great tiouble of that sort which
causes all men to turn their eyes on the
sufferer to see how lie bears it. Under
these circumstances there is not a man
hut instinctively knows that, if he can
only perform that little facial feat suc
cessfully, his battle is more than half
won Seine men can never do it at all,
Some try; only to break down lament
ably. There are mouths and mouths
With some months the keeping of a stifl
upper lip is a physiological impossibili
ty- 11 you want to see the most perfect
failure of such an attempt, watch an ini
pulsive, sensitive child whose feelings
have been wounded, but whose natural
pride instinctively suggests conceal
ment of the trouble. Tile lips begin to
quivei ominously; then the eyes in turn,
show signs of rebelling against the dis
cipline which is sought to be enforced
upon a countenance accustomed to be
made an index of al! tfiat goes on with
in- Next, a sob forces itself up from
the throat, and brings the ready tears
witli it, and the tears are a signal for an
. unconditional capitulation. Down goes
I the treacherous under lip, and up goes
j the forsaken upper lip, which cannot
possibly preserve their equilibrium after
the defection of its twin brother and
nearest ally. 'I tio control over the mus
cles of the mouth which is necessary to
the preservation of a stifl upper Up,
and which typifies firmness is only
gained after long and repeated struggles.
It is an important part in that uncon.
scions self—education which begins so
early ttiat no one can ever exactly know
when he took his first lesson in it.
U licre thcSiiu Does Not Set.
A scene witnessed by some travelers
mi the north of Norway, from a cliff one
thousand lbet above the sea, is thus de
scribed :
“The ocean stretched away in silent
easiness at our feet; the sound of waves
scarcely reached our airy lookout; away
in the north the huge old sun swung
low along (he horizon,like the slow beat
of the pendulum in the tall clock of our
grandfather’s parlor corner. We all
stood silent, looking at our watches.
When both hands came together at
twelve, midnight, the full round orb
hung triumphantly above the waves, a
biidgoof gold running duo North—.
spanning the water between us and
him. Thou he shone in silent majesty,
which knew no setting. We involunta
rily took off our hats; no word was said.
Combine, if you can, the most brilliant
sunrise and sunset you ever saw and
the beauties will pale before the gor
ge jus coloring which now lit up ocean,
heaven and mountain. In half an hour
the sun had swung up perceptibly on
his beat, the colors changed to those ol
morning, a fresh breeze rippled over the
flood, one songster after another pipp-d
up in the grove behind us—we hud slid
another day.”
The Pi evidence Journal tells the fol
lowing :
As the mid-day Worcester train was
about leaving the depot, a man of the
Johnstonian type of manners entered the
car and gruffly requested that two young
ladies occupying separate seats should
sit together, that he aud his friend might
enjoy a social tete-a-tete on the othef
seat.
‘But,’ said one one of the damsels,
blushing, ‘this seat is engaged.’
‘Engaged, is it,’ brusquely responded
the man. ‘Who engaged it?’
‘A young man, sir,’ replied Ibo con
scious maiden.
‘A young man, eh! Where’s his bag
gage?’ persisted the. Ursa Major.
‘l’m his baggage, old Hateful,’ replied
the demure damsel, pursing her rosy
lips into the nreftiesl pout.
A Fact. —Every publisher, no matter
what his political tenets may be, will
agree with Horace Greeley in the follow
ing sensible remarks :
“It is strange how c’osely men rend
the papers. Wo never say anything
that anybody don’t like but we soon*hear
of it, and everybody tells us about it.
If, however, we once iu a while happen
to any a good tiling, we never tear ot
that; nobody seems to notice that. We
may pay some man a hundred compli
ments and give him a dozen p' ffs, aud
he takes it as a tribute to his greatness,
and never thinks of it; never thinks it
does him any good. But if we bappru
to say something this man don’t like, or
something lie imagines a refl cion oh
him or his character, see how quick he
flares up and gets mad about it. ’
A worthy deacon iu some town or
other, gave notice at a prayer meeting,
the other night, of a church meeting
that was to lie held immediately after,
arid unconsciously added : ‘‘There is nu
| objection to the female brethren remain
ing.” This reminds ns of a clergyma
who told in his sermon of a very affect
ing scene, where “there wasn’t a dry
tear in the bouse.”
NO. 9
